


The Kings and the Matchmaking

by jaydee09



Series: Two Kings [42]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, F/M, Friendship, M/M, Matchmaking, Oral Sex, Rimming, tattooing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 09:45:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5412179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaydee09/pseuds/jaydee09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin, the matchmaker, is trying to find a partner for his friend, Dwalin.  Unfortunately, Dwalin is already having a quiet affair with Bris, the tattoo artist.  The dwarven king’s machinations not only threaten to damage Dwalin’s relationship with his new found love but also the king’s own with Thranduil as two scheming dwarf women plot to get their claws into the two most attractive blokes in Erebor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kings and the Matchmaking

 

.o00o.

 

The Kings and the Matchmaking

 

Pt I

 

As The Poet, the Swan of Anduin, once said: “The course of true love never did run smooth – especially not in Erebor”.   How right he was.  It was proving to be a bit of a bumpy road for at least two sets of lovers on this particular night in the beautiful marble halls of the great dwarven city under the Mountain.

 

The elven king was lying between his true love’s muscular thighs with his face buried in his crotch.  He had just sucked him to a pretty spectacular conclusion but he was still playing with him, rolling his currently limp cock around his pink tongue and squeezing his heavy balls a bit more than was necessary.  Thorin knew he was getting a little bad-tempered and he knew why but, on this matter, he really couldn’t bring himself to please him.

 

The dwarven king’s genitals were very more-ish, but Thranduil paused for a moment to look up and grumble: “Go on – you’re nice and clean.  Just let me try it the once.   You might find you like it.”

 

Thorin squirmed.  “We’ve been arguing about this on and off for some years, Thranduil,” was the curt response.  “I’ve said no and I mean no and that’s all there is to it.”

 

The elf sat up and folded his arms across his smooth chest angrily.  “When I think of all the things I’ve done for you – the tattoo, not to mention the piercing on my cock and the pearling.  And you won’t let me experiment with this one little thing.  It’s more for your pleasure than for mine.  And it certainly won’t hurt, not like those mutilations I allowed done to my body.”

 

“Well, then,” said Thorin in politely sarcastic tones, “you must allow me to decline that pleasure with my thanks.”  It had to be said that the dwarf did actually feel rather guilty about this but he had always found it difficult to change his rather prudish nature.  The elven king’s tastes were a bit more extreme than his own and, although he had allowed his lover to lead him some distance down the experimental road, he felt he had to draw a line somewhere and this was it.  And he rolled over and pulled the coverlet up to his chin.

 

“What about me?” asked Thranduil angrily, prodding his stiff member into the dwarf’s buttocks.  “You’ve had your fun.”

 

“Fire away,” mumbled Thorin, generously pushing his behind backwards into the elf’s groin.  “But don’t be surprised if I fall asleep.”  Thranduil, feeling more than a bit irritated, took him up on his offer and thrust his cock up Thorin’s backside.  But, the dwarf only grunted once as he was penetrated and then began to snore.  A disgusted elven king used him until he came and then turned over himself and went to sleep.

 

.o00o.

 

Meanwhile, in another apartment, Dwalin was screwing the tattoo artist, Bris.  He came on a great groan but kept moving until she had come too.  He was so infatuated with his new-found love that he wanted to tell the whole of Erebor, but Bris thought differently.

 

“By Mahal’s cock and balls,” he shouted at the ceiling as he rolled off her, “you just wait until I tell Thorin what a treasure I have found.”

 

“Well, it will be a long wait,” she said tartly, “because you will tell no-one.”

 

“Why not?” he asked, leaning on an elbow and grinning down at her.  “Don’t you want everyone to know what a good fuck you are?”

 

“No, I don’t,” she replied, giving his backside a sharp slap – which only made him wriggle lasciviously. “I’ve got reasons for keeping quiet.”

 

Laughingly, he raised an eyebrow and said:  “Name one.”

 

She shrugged.  “It’s because of my job.  People gossip about me.  I tattoo men in rude places and pierce their cocks.  Female tattoo artists have a bad reputation – unfair, I know - but if people get to hear that you’re my partner, they’ll start to ask you sly questions about our sex life – and I just don’t like it.  I’d much rather that they knew nothing at all.”

 

“So, does that mean,” he asked, “that you won’t be telling Thranduil anything about you and me when you accompany him on your trip to Mirkwood tomorrow?”

 

“That’s right,” she said curtly.

 

“And does that also mean that, while you’re away on business for two weeks in the elven stronghold, I can’t tell my best friend, Thorin, that I reckon I’ve found the love of my life?”

 

“That’s about it.”

 

“Well, I think you’re being very silly,” he said sharply.  And he turned his back on her, pulling the sheet up to his chin and wondering just how long this love of his life was going to last.

 

.o00o.

 

Thorin opened his eyes slowly on a new day.  Thranduil was already up and bathed and was pulling on his clothes in readiness for his return to Mirkwood.

 

_Oh, dear.  Not still grumpy then?_

 

“I’m off,” said the elven king coolly.

 

_Better not let him go in this mood_ , thought the dwarf.    “Come here,” he said silkily, stretching out his hand to him.  Thranduil reluctantly approached the bed and Thorin’s hand grabbed him between the legs and pulled him closer to him as he lay on the pillow.  Then he pressed his face into his crotch and nuzzled him there.  The elf grinned: he couldn’t resist the dwarven king for long.  And he reached down and stroked his tousled hair.

 

“Sorry, my love,” he murmured throatily.  “I’d love to stay but I have to meet Bris downstairs in five minutes.”

 

Thorin gave him a sultry look up through his black eyelashes.  “I’m sure I could manage something for you in four minutes,” he growled, “or even three.”  And it was with very great difficulty that a laughing Thranduil pushed him away.

 

“I’ll dream about what I have missed tonight, in my lonely bed,” he said and he bent and kissed him on the lips.  “As our poet said: ‘Parting is such sweet sorrow’.”  And then he was gone.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt II

 

Both Thranduil and Bris were going to Mirkwood on the same day and so they were going together.   The elven king enjoyed the dwarf woman’s company – she made him laugh – and so he was pleased to have her along.

 

“How’s your prick, Thranduil?” she asked as a polite opener after setting out.  “Not sore or anything?”

 

“No,” he grinned, “it healed up very nicely after you pierced it.”

 

“Well, there’s a surprise,” she replied.  “I was sure you would have worn it out by now.”    Then she let out a bark of laughter.  “I’m just imagining you and Thorin taking it on trial runs.”

 

Thranduil tried to look prim: “I’m surprised you can imagine what it’s like to have a piercing on your genitals.”

 

“Oh, no need to imagine when you have one yourself,” she said, looking at him slyly.

 

The elf pulled his horse to a startled halt.  “You have one too?”  And then he slapped his thigh.  “But, of course you have!  And I bet you’ve got a million tattoos as well.”  He rode on for a moment and then said gleefully: “Go on, tell us exactly where this piercing is, then.”

 

“Piercings,” she corrected.

 

He shook his head and when she just trotted along looking smug, he urged, “Come on, spill the beans.  I promise not to tell anyone.”

 

“I’ve got two through my labia and one through the clit.  Very effective.”

 

“Whoo-hoo,” whistled Thranduil through his teeth.   “I bet they are.  And what about the tattoos?”

 

“I’ve got a very, very beautiful one and it was done by the finest tattoo artist of my acquaintance.  The design is of a long and winding rose briar which starts on one breast and trails its way across and around the other.  A lovely work of art.”

 

“Since you’ve seen mine, any chance that you’re going to show me yours?” asked Thranduil with a suggestive leer.

 

“No chance,” was the short reply.

 

The king sighed.  “Thought not,” he said, pulling a sad face.  But then he made a sudden pounce.  “Your partner gets to see it, of course,” he grinned, hoping to catch her out.  He was very curious about her private life because she never spoke of it.

 

“What partner?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.  She didn’t intend to let her relationship with Dwalin slip.

 

“What a waste of a triple piecing and a beautiful tattoo,” he said with mock regret.  _And what a waste of a delightful dwarf woman_ , he was thinking too.

 

“So, how’s your business going?” he asked with interest.  “And, more importantly,” he grinned, “do I get any commission for starting a trend in tattoos and genital piercings?”

 

“Yes, it’s going well - all the young elves want something done.  But, no, you don’t get commission,” was the brusque reply.

 

“Shame,” he said.  “But tell me, what do they want and are you willing to do it?   After all, you wouldn’t even let me, a king and a grown-up, have the full works.”

 

“Most of them just want a piercing; others want a small tattoo on a shoulder or their bum.  But some want the full tattoo on their cock and balls.  That’s when I insist it has to be a decision made with a partner and, if they’re really young, I usually refuse.”

 

Thranduil found himself laughing all the way to Mirkwood and he had soon got over any grumpiness that lingered as regards Thorin and his prissy attitude towards sex.

 

.o00o.

 

Back at the ranch, Thorin sat in the dining hall with Brangwyn, his heir’s beautiful wife, and Balin.

 

“I’ve been thinking….”

 

“Please, no, don’t think,” groaned Brangwyn in mock horror.

 

Thorin dug her with his elbow.  “I’m thinking about Dwalin, actually,” he said.

 

“That should please him,” grinned Balin.

 

“Will you two just shut up for a moment,” sighed their king.  “Poor Dwalin – great bloke – has lost both Dis and now Bilbo.  I’m feeling a bit guilty about my involvement and Thranduil suggested the other night that we should all try to do a bit of matchmaking and find him a decent partner.  What do you think?”

 

There was silence in the room.  Then: “Such things seldom meet with success,” said Brangwyn; and Balin nodded in agreement.

 

“Well, at least listen to my plan,” replied the king grumpily.  “I thought I would hold a small dinner party, just me, Dwalin, Brangwyn, Young Thorin and two spare dwarf women.  Then we could just let things ride and see what happens.”

 

“I’m glad that I’m not involved,” muttered Balin.

 

“And which spare dwarf women do you have in mind?” asked Brangwyn curiously.

 

“Well,” said Thorin, looking a bit uncomfortable, “I can only think of Zylra…..”

 

And when they rolled their eyes, he continued hastily: “But she’s entertaining a cousin from The Iron Hills at the moment…..and they’re both very good-looking women.”

 

“Yes, but Zylra’s got an awful temper,” groaned Bragwyn.  “That’s why no-one wants her.”

 

“Perhaps she’s improving with age?” suggested Thorin optimistically.

 

There was a long pause.  “Perhaps.”  Then: “I suppose you want me to issue the invitations to make it sound less suspicious.”

 

“If you would be so kind.”

 

.o00o.

 

And so it was that a reluctant Brangwyn found herself knocking on Zylra’s door, ready to deliver a gold-embossed invitation.   Zylra snatched open the door: “Yes?” she said rudely to her future queen.

 

“Our king is holding a small dinner-party,” Brangwyn replied sweetly, holding out the invitation, “and hopes that you and your cousin can attend.  My husband and I will also be there.”

 

Zylra seized the invitation and stared at it wide-eyed.  Then she slammed the door shut without another word.

 

Good start, thought Brangwyn as she trotted off to visit Dwalin.

 

“Come in,” said the big dwarf cheerfully.

 

“Thanks, but I won’t,” replied Brangwyn casually.  “I just thought I’d drop by in passing to let you know that Thorin is holding a small dinner party – you know, just something to pass the time while Thranduil is away – and you, me and my husband have all been invited – along with a few others, of course.”  And she handed over the invitation and moved on her way with a wave before Dwalin could think of any probing questions to ask.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt III

 

“Come and look at this, Tannis!” called Zylra, as she shut the door behind her.  “The king has sent us an invitation!”

 

The blond-haired Tannis bent over the shoulder of the dark-haired Zylra and gawped at the elegantly embossed piece of card her cousin held in her hand.   “A dinner-party?” she said curiously.

 

“And a small, intimate one at that.  And this is the aspect which really intrigues me.  Why would Thorin hold such a thing when his partner is absent?”

 

“You tell me,” was the puzzled response.

 

“Well, you might not know it, Tannis, coming as you do from the Iron Hills, but the two kings are always arguing.  Some accounts are only hearsay, of course, but I’ve witnessed a couple of the pretty vicious ones that they’ve fought out in public.”

 

Tannis stared at her wide-eyed.

 

“It wasn’t very long ago that they got so violent with each other that Thranduil back-handed Thorin across the room and then kicked him in the ribs where he lay on the floor.  We thought that was the end of their relationship………And I’m wondering if it actually hasn’t come to an end now.   Thranduil isn’t here and perhaps Thorin is looking for another partner.”

 

“You mean…..?”

 

Zylra rolled her eyes.  “Yes, keep up, Tannis.  I mean one of us.”

 

“But, why….?”

 

Because there are hardly any spare dwarf women?  Because we’re beautiful?  Because we’re young?  Umm, youngish?  Because we’re available?”

 

“Oh,” breathed Tannis, clutching her hands together.  “I’m definitely available…….but which of us will get him?  There’re two of us and only one of him.”

 

“Hmm, well, to even up the numbers, perhaps he’s bringing an unmarried friend.  One of his old Company.  They may not be kings but they’re all filthy rich.  I could put up with any of them – especially Dwalin.  He’s just lost his partner, Bilbo.  I’m sure that either of us could give Dwalin a better ride than that scrawny little hobbit.”

 

“I’m just thinking how easily I could spend all that gold,” sighed Tannis dreamily.  “But,” she added, turning sharply to her cousin, “you’d better not ruin things by letting them see your dreadful temper.”

“What temper?” snapped Zylra.

 

“That temper,” Tannis answered.

 

“And you’d better not let them find out about your rather sordid past in the Iron Hills,” continued a grumpy Zylra.  They both stared gloomily into space as they imagined the hurdles that lay before them.

 

“Well,” said Zylra finally, “if we don’t want to let this one slip through our fingers, we need to go prepared.  And, if it’s obvious when we get there that a bit of match-making is going on then we must manipulate the situation to make sure that we put them in such a position that they can’t wriggle out of things.”

 

“Time to shop for a nice frock, then?”

 

“Definitely,” said her black-haired cousin.

 

.o00o.

 

In her surgery in Mirkwood, Bris had just finished yet another tattoo on a young elf-lord’s behind.  “Finished,” she said curtly, holding up a mirror so that he could see her handiwork.  He was lying on a raised couch in nothing but a singlet and, propping himself up on one arm, he looked over his shoulder at the reflection and nodded his approval.  Then he pulled himself into an upright position and sat with his legs dangling over the side.

 

Bris mentally rolled her eyes.  He had an erection.  Not another one.  All these young bucks seemed to be turned on by a woman digging needles into their bum and they seemed to enjoy flaunting their cocks in front of her.  That was the trouble with elves: unlike her dwarven customers, they had no tradition of tattooing and it seemed to excite them.

 

She adopted her best disapproving stare.  “Time to get dressed,” she said brusquely.  The young elf continued to sit there, then, slowly stroking his prick, he glanced up at her slyly.  “I need to get rid of this first,” he murmured suggestively.  “Perhaps you can help me.”

 

“I can help you to your breeches,” she snapped, picking up a pile of clothes and thrusting them at him.

 

But, instead of taking the clothes from her, his hands shot out and encircled her waist; and, before she knew it, she was being held tightly between a pair of strong, lithe thighs and his head was nuzzling at her breast.

 

The elf groaned with pleasure.  He had been longing to do this ever since he had lain on her couch almost naked and had felt her strong, cool fingers upon his behind.  All his friends had told him what a sexual kick they had got out of being tattooed by the dwarf woman and they had sniggered behind their hands as they had shared with him their fantasies about her.  And they had been right!  He had been kept awake at night, dreaming about fucking Bris – quite a stimulating perversion, really.  But, if Thranduil could screw a dwarf then why couldn’t the rest of them?  And now he was sitting with his head buried between her pillowy breasts – so much more sensuous than the small, firm breasts of elves – and he was wondering how much she would want to be paid for a quick fuck on the couch.

 

“Did you know that you’re the most desirable woman in Mirkwood,” he whispered, kissing her creamy skin.

 

“Really?” she said between gritted teeth.

 

He was disappointed that she wasn’t struggling because that would have made it even more exciting, but, encouraged by her passivity, he slid his hands down to grab her buttocks and pulled her even closer into his increasingly hard cock.  Her hand ran gently over his smooth cheek and long neck before coming to rest on a nipple which she began to caress with the palm of her hand.  He didn’t think he could stand it much longer: he would have to fuck her or he would die.

 

But suddenly, just as he was squirming with the delight of her caresses, her hand tightened on his nipple and she twisted it, very, very hard.

 

He yelped and leaped from the couch.  “What was that for?” he asked indignantly.

 

“For being a naughty boy without any manners,” she snarled.  “Get into your clothes and go.”

 

Sullenly, he pulled on his shirt and breeches and banged from the room, nearly knocking over Thranduil in the process.  “What’s wrong with him?” asked the king, nodding at the disappearing figure, stomping off down the corridor.

 

“He’s got an itch and he wanted me to scratch it,” she replied, calmly putting her bottles of dye away.

 

“What?” said Thranduil.  And then, angrily: “What?!  Are these young lads giving you any trouble?  Because, if they are, they’ll get some trouble from me!”

 

“Nothing I can’t handle,” she grinned. 

 

Thranduil sat down and poured himself a drink.  “I wish I had been here,” he grinned back, “to see your way of handling things.  But, you know,” he said thoughtfully, “if you played your cards right, you could land yourself an elven lord for a husband, just like Dis.”

 

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Thranduil,” said Bris with some irritation.  “I don’t need an elven husband or any kind of husband, come to that.”

 

“I’m only looking out for you,” said Thranduil, surprised at her bad temper.  “You’re a lovely woman and deserve a lovely partner.”

 

“I’ve already got a lovely partner,” Bris snarled, her determination to keep things a secret broken at last.  “I’ve got Dwalin.”

 

Thranduil’s eyes widened and then he roared with laughter.  “Marvellous!  Absolutely marvellous!” he exclaimed.  “Just wait until I tell Thorin!”

 

Bris sighed.  Her secret was out and now the whole of Mirkwood and Erebor would know.  She would have to warn Dwalin when they returned to the Mountain tomorrow evening – she suspected he would be quite pleased about it.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt IV

 

Dwalin was the first to arrive at Thorin’s apartment.  He nodded with approval at the extensive buffet being kept warm in chafing dishes on a side table.  “Smells good,” he said.  “Better than the mass catering down in the dining hall.  Are you going to serve us or will we help ourselves?”

 

“Oh, I shall serve you,” grinned Thorin.  “I thought it a suitably humble task for a king.”  _And keeps all those prying servants out the way_ , he thought.

 

“So, who else is coming?” asked the dwarf.  “Apart from Brangwyn and Young Thorin?”

 

“Oh, just a couple of others you may not know,” replied his king vaguely, just as they heard a knock on the door.

 

Thorin opened it to find Zylra and Tannis on the threshold.  He had to admit that they certainly looked very attractive and he was optimistic that Dwalin would think so too.  But, after the introductions were made, a rather stilted conversation took place.  _We’re neither of us very good at this_ , thought the dwarven king.  And he hoped that his two final guests would help things to roll along more smoothly.

 

When the knock came, he jumped to his feet in relief.  But, to his surprise, he found, not Brangwyn and the prince at the door, but a servant holding out a letter.  He returned to the dining room reading it, his brow furrowed.  “Young Thorin had a riding accident late this afternoon,” he said.  “We’re not to worry but Brangwyn thinks he needs to rest and so they won’t be coming.”  Zylra and Tannis gave each other meaningful looks across the table.  It was obviously a set-up so that they could be alone with the king and his friend.  They tried not to let the elation show on their faces.

 

.o00o.

 

The two dwarf women tried to get the conversation flowing more freely once the four of them were left alone whilst Thorin and Dwalin served the food and wine.  This fitted in well with their plans and when the king and his friend had their backs turned at the buffet table, they slipped an interesting powder into their drinks. 

 

Thorin had not been too displeased at the turn of events because he thought that Dwalin would now be put under more pressure to take an interest in at least one of the women.  His friend, however, was feeling rather anxious about the machinations that were obviously going on and he was frantically trying to think of an excuse to leave the party.  Bris would return tomorrow and he didn’t want any gossip to spoil their more than satisfactory relationship.  What had Thorin been thinking of?!

 

The first sachet of powder made them much more sociable, however.  They felt relaxed and both began to consider the attractions of the two dwarf women.  What delightful companions they were whilst their true loves were sadly absent!  And much teasing and flattery and kissing of hands began to take place.

 

The second dose made them very sleepy, however, and they could hardly keep their eyes open.  “You both look very tired,” whispered Zylra in Thorin’s ear.  How understanding she was!  “Perhaps we can help the two of you to the bed in the next room so that you can have a little lie down.”

 

What a good idea!  And the pair were very appreciative when the ladies led their faltering steps to the bedroom where they collapsed upon the mattress.  Their eyes closed and they were soon fast asleep.

 

“Quickly!  Strip them off!” snapped Zylra.  And they pulled off their clothes, pausing only briefly to admire the striking bodies that would soon be all theirs, before removing their own clothes and climbing onto the mattress.

 

“So, we’ve got to force their hand,” continued Zylra.  “When they wake up, they must find themselves in such compromising positions that there will be nothing for it but for them to protect our honour by marrying us.  And it will be even better should a servant walk in tomorrow morning.”  And they arranged themselves appropriately on the bed.

 

.o00o.

 

Earlier that evening, in Mirkwood, Bris and Thranduil, had found themselves twiddling their thumbs down in the dining hall, impatiently waiting for the following day to come so that they could ride back to their partners once more.

 

“We could always go back tonight,” Thranduil suddenly suggested.  “My night vision is good and it won’t be the first time I’ve done it - it will give those two a great surprise.”

 

“Good idea,” said Bris, rising to her feet.  “I’ll just go and pack my bag and meet you in the stables.”

 

.o00o.

 

In the early hours of the following morning, a weary Bris was surprised when she found Dwalin’s bed empty.  She chased Thranduil down the corridors.  “He’s not in his room.  I wonder where he can be?”

 

Thranduil stopped in his tracks.  “With Thorin?” he said bleakly.

 

And Bris, knowing nothing of the history between the dwarven king and his friend, said cheerfully: “Oh, yes.  I expect they got drunk together or something.”

 

“It’s the ‘or something’ that I’m worried about,” muttered the elf and his brows drew blackly together.

 

But neither of them were prepared for what they found in Thorin’s apartment.  The abandoned meal in the dining-room was surprising but the abandoned scene in the bedroom was absolutely shocking: four naked bodies, tangled limbs, hands on boobs, mouths sucking cocks, groins pressed into groins – a veritable orgy.  Bris took one look and then she fled.  After one long stare, Thranduil chased after her.

 

He caught her half way down the corridor and seized her by the shoulder.  She spun around and the elf was taken aback: the strong, feisty, confident dwarf woman was in floods of tears.  “I can’t believe that I’ve lost him,” she wept.

 

“And I can’t believe it either,” he responded.   “Come on,” he said, taking her by the hand.  “I think we need to investigate.”  And he pulled a reluctant Bris back to the apartment.

 

As they re-entered the bedroom, Thorin and Dwalin were both groaning and clutching their heads whilst trying to disentangle themselves from legs and arms and lips.

 

“What happened?” asked a dazed dwarven king, looking blearily about himself.  Then: “Thranduil?” as he caught sight of the elf.  And, then, with a look of horror, as he gazed down at the dwarf woman who was still clamped onto his cock like a leech: “Zylra?  What on earth are you doing down there?”

 

“Let’s check out a few things,” said Thranduil through gritted teeth, as he hauled Bris back into the dining-room.  He picked up a glass and swished the dregs around: a white scum could be seen, leaving its trail on the sides.  Bris stared with dawning realisation.  Back in the bedroom, where everyone was sitting up now, looking either confused or apprehensive, the elf rummaged in Zylra’s clothing until he triumphantly produced a number of small paper packets.  Zylra and Tannis were looking very sullen.  “Get out,” barked Thranduil and the pair scrambled into their clothes and were gone.

 

Dwalin was slowly pulling on his clothes too.  “Take him home, Bris, and give him a good talking to about the dangers of socialising with unmarried women,” said the elven king.  And the tattoo artist dragged her beloved out of the room with a grim expression on her face.

 

Thorin was sitting on the bed looking like a naughty schoolboy.  Thranduil strode around the room in a fury.  “You idiot!  You absolute idiot!” he yelled.  “When will you grow up?”

 

“Sorry, Thranduil,” whispered the dwarf, looking up at his lover through dark, guilty lashes.  “I was only trying to find a partner for Dwalin – you know, like we discussed the other week.”

 

“But Dwalin already has a partner – Bris.”

 

“Well, nobody told me,” the dwarf complained sullenly.   “Even you didn’t know.”

 

Thranduil had to admit that this was true and he calmed down a bit.  “You idiot,” he said again, but quietly this time.  And he ran a gentle finger down the side of his lover’s face.  “I’m filthy from the ride,” he murmured.  “I must have a bath.  Are you coming too?”

 

Thorin padded along behind the elven king to the bathing pool and there, in silence, they washed each other’s bodies.  Then Thranduil pinned the dwarf to the side of the marble pool and kissed him.  His pink tongue circled the dwarven king’s mouth, lingering wetly as it outlined his lips.  Thorin shivered at his touch.  The tongue traced its path again and then plunged inside to meet his lover’s own waiting tongue.

 

“Let me,” he whispered.  “You owe me.”

 

Thorin gave the faintest of nods and the elven king lifted him out of the water to sit on the marble poolside.  Tentatively, the dwarf looped his legs over his partner’s shoulders and lay back with a look of resignation on his face.  Thranduil gave a faint smile at his reluctant compliance and he nuzzled his way beneath Thorin’s balls.  Then his tongue followed the same path as he had traced upon the dwarf’s lips and when the wet circling finally made the king squirm and moan, the elf plunged in and then began to kiss and suck until Thorin cried out in ecstasy and came throbbingly upon his belly.

 

“How was that?” grinned Thranduil, leaping out of the pool and leaning over the dwarven king on one elbow.

 

“Disgustingly good,” gasped the dwarf, “I’m very embarrassed to say.”

 

“Idiot,” whispered the elf tenderly.  And then he lifted him in his arms and carried him to their bed.

 

.o00o.

 

**This is my last Thorinduil story before Xmas.  Some good suggestions have been made to me for new stories and so I shall doubtless be back later in the New Year.  Hope you all have a good time!**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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